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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031050">I Can't Wipe Off The Taste From My Tongue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryBeam136/pseuds/FuryBeam136'>FuryBeam136</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, couldnt be me, imagine writing anything but angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:29:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryBeam136/pseuds/FuryBeam136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is always watching, even when no one is watching.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Quality Persona Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Can't Wipe Off The Taste From My Tongue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Someone is always watching, even when no one is watching.</p><p>He's learned that lesson too many times to count now. He adjusts his gloves, a nervous habit he has to break because eventually someone will figure out that's what it is and take advantage of that vulnerability. He breathes, in, out, in, out, smiles to himself in the mirror, turns away because his own face disgusts him now. Someone will figure that out eventually, too. How he hates the sight of his own body, how there's an incessant itch beneath his skin. How he pointedly avoids looking down when he's forced to take off the gloves or roll up his sleeves. He wants to curl up and hide away, like a child hiding from the monsters under the bed. Except the monsters are people, and they are arguably more terrifying than any eldritch horror conjured from the mind of a child afraid of what they didn't know, with their eyes that bore into him, judging, judging, judging-</p><p>Deep breaths, in, out, don't let the mask slip.</p><p>His hands are clenched too tightly into fists. Even here, alone in his apartment, someone is watching. Someone is always watching. Smile, relax, don't let them see a hint of vulnerability, because as soon as they see it, they'll take everything from him. He'll be back at square one, struggling to claw his way up out of circumstances he had no choice in.</p><p>"<i>We'll bring them to justice,</i>" Robin Hood assures him, gentle and calm and comforting.</p><p>"We'Ll TeAr ThEm ApArT," Loki promises, vicious and grating and yet oh so familiar.</p><p>He can feel something dangerously vulnerable building in his chest and he swallows it down. His smile feels on the verge of faltering and he can't let that happen because if they see anything get to him they'll know, and they'll tear into him, vicious and unforgiving. People are harsh, terrifying, horrible. Predictable in all the worst ways.</p><p>As much as he wants to hide, something deep in him longs to be seen. Not just watched, but seen. He wants to scream, shout, "look at me, look at me," stand tall and raw and bleeding over the whole world, all his scars bared for the world to see, telling them, "look at me, look at what you've done to me."</p><p>"<i>They will see us for who we are someday,</i>" Robin Hood murmurs.</p><p>"ThEy WiLl FeEl PaIn," Loki snarls.</p><p>There's an itch just under his skin to break, destroy, tear down everything that's ever been built up by anyone, bring them down to his level, smear them in the dirt and scream at them, ask if they pity him now. And yet, he finds he also wants to build himself up to them, take their trust, their time, their attention, and give it in turn to those who remain wallowing in the dirt, reassure them that everything is going to be alright.</p><p>He wants to tear his own skin off.</p><p>Someone's always watching.</p><p>Something ugly and terrifying and horribly vulnerable threatens to spill over. He breathes, in, out, in, out, in-</p><p>Alone, yet with the world's eyes on him, a scream tears from his throat, raw and vicious and desperate.</p><p>Something shatters against the wall. It takes a long moment for him to realize he threw it. His hands are shaking, his body is shaking, there are tears welling in his eyes and the taste is pooling in his throat and he's <i>drowning.</i> He gasps for air and he tries to pull away from the world, curls in on himself, makes himself small, but it's never enough. Someone is always watching, even when no one is watching. Someone is always watching. </p><p>They're always watching.</p><p>They'll tear him apart.</p><p>"<i>It's going to be okay.</i>"</p><p>"We WiLl BrEaK tHeM."</p>
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